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Monday, February 17, 2014

WHAT HAPPENED TO OCHOPEE?

In this 2012 file
photo, students from Everglades City School, along with the help of others,
paint the Ochopee Post Office on for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The post
office, which is considered the smallest one in the United States, has been
open since 1953.

Jeff Whichello is a friend, and was the leader of the first writing group I ever attended in Pennsylvania. I still miss those meetings, but even though he left PA, Jeff remained supportive as we both struggled to write and publish our first books. I'm honored to be able to introduce you to his debut novel, a nonfiction masterpiece

This is an article on What Happened To Ochopee? by Brent Batten for the Naples Daily Newspaper.

Perched alongside U.S. 41 east of Everglades City sits the
“America’s Smallest Post Office,” an attraction that draws people to Ochopee if
for no other reason than the opportunity to have a picture taken next to the
novelty.

What visitors don’t realize is that the tiny converted
storage shed is a remnant of a much larger history.

It is a story of free spirits and adventurers who once
populated Ochopee, supporting a motel, restaurants, bars, industry, a general
store and sundry tourist attractions. It is also a history of ambitious plans
to carve a national preserve out of thousands of acres abutting Everglades
National Park and of how those plans ran headlong into the aspirations of the
locals, mostly to the detriment of the latter.

In it he describes a childhood spent getting to know the
characters that populated the village; the hunters, fishermen, Miami Dolphins
fans fleeing television blackouts imposed by the NFL and even the occasional
movie star who would come and go.

Whichello, now a computer programmer living in the Tampa
area, where his family settled after being forced to sell the motel, will be at
the Everglades Seafood Festival this weekend signing copies of his book. As hard as it may be for this weekend’s visitors to rustic
Everglades City to believe, a trip there was considered “going into town” by
Ochopee residents in the 1960s and 1970s. Driving all the way into Naples was
an even bigger deal — “going to the city” — where one might find exotic items
such as ice cream.

The slow demise of Ochopee began in 1968, when work began on
a jetport envisioned to serve the growing Miami market. The FAA had plans to
build six runways on 35 square miles near the Dade-Collier county line smack in
the middle of the Everglades. It was to be the biggest airport in the world,
capable of handling the supersonic passenger jets of the future.

Work was already underway when environmentalists rallied to
put a stop to the project. Influential politicians came to their aid and in the
end the jetport idea was scuttled.

The political pendulum swung the other way and a report from
the National Academy of Sciences suggested preserving land around the national
park would minimize the impacts of development.

Thus began what Ochopee locals deemed a land grab that resulted
in residents being forced from their property and the Golden Lion, once a
motel, restaurant and bar, converted to the headquarters of what is now the Big
Cypress National Preserve.

Whichello details the hearings and meetings that constituted
a battle between the locals and the political interests, many of them with
little connection to Florida.

Whichello was just a teenager as the drama unfolded and his
family lost its business. They moved to Brandon where they mostly still live,
“just getting by,” he said.

“What Happened to Ochopee?” has the tone of a lament,
retrospective of a simple time when neighbors sat on the docks behind their
homes and caught their supper or communally boiled crabs and played cards to
while away the evenings.

An aspiring writer, he says he felt the need to get the
Ochopee story off his chest before he could move on to other subjects. “After
the traumatic experience, I couldn’t get over it. When I was 19 I started
collecting information. A year ago I started writing,” he said.

Seafood Festival visitors might wander a few miles east of
State Road 29 to see the almost comical post office and giant skunk ape statue
that stand as visible remains of the Ochopee that once was. To the former
residents and the few still hanging on there, the story is anything but
comical.

This was originally published in theNaples Daily News written by Brent Batten.

Like a tall palm tree growing from a single seed, the community of Ochopee emerged
from one man's solitary dream. In 1928, twenty-eight-year-old James Gaunt saw
undiscovered potential in the swamp that lay on either side of the new road
that connected Tampa to Miami. His love of farming and community fueled his
actions to build his own world.

One
of the top producers of tomatoes in the country, Ochopee earned its place on
the Florida map but when the market dropped, other adventurers joined. Only
people with a certain creativity, work-ethic, and talent succeeded in this
mucky land. An airboat and a swamp buggy venture, animal exhibits, real estate
businesses, a water company, a mining operation, restaurants, a motel, bars, a
general store, a campground, movie makers, and a skunk-ape followed Gaunt to
the grassy field he first declared his home. A small twentieth century pioneer
town prospered on the open plain where children were born and families lived in
peace.

Then,
the takers came. These big-picture people were unconcerned about the details of
their actions while staring at a map of Florida from their government offices.
They were unable to imagine or realize the activities of this unique community
living free in the wild. When environmentalists and developers collided on the
Ochopee battle ground, it was the common person, the one who scrambled every
day to feed their family who suffered in this war. The only one with a stake in
it, they had something to lose.

This
is a true story. Story quotes were taken from newspapers and other sources and
feelings, thoughts and emotions were taken from interviews with eye-witnesses.
The book has 50 images.

From birth,
the author spent his childhood alone in the Florida Everglades keeping company
with the animal life while his parents worked to build a motel and restaurant
business in the tiny community of Ochopee. Once his sister was old enough they
set out on combined adventures, discovering the advantages of a simple and
quiet existence of catching fish in the afternoon sun. The American dream which
his parents constructed alongside his father's five siblings came to a sudden
close with the intervention of government forces, but the author never forgot
the anguish he witnessed as his home town fought to survive against the land
acquisition of the Big Cypress swamp. He later moved away to Brandon near Tampa
where life commenced but with the first act in the back of his mind he
continued to dwell on the topic of government abuse against families. Through
the years he returned to the Everglades in order to maintain friendships and
the original connection to the land. He continued to invent a host of stories
and writings while pursuing a career in computer science. He travelled to New
York City and worked in Manhattan for 3 years and then in Alabama before
returning home to Florida having left the state for over six years. In current
times he works part time writing a handful of books the first of which is for
Ochopee.

The whole land grab thing is ongoing and never stopped. The American Land Rights Association has been fighting it since the mid 70's until today. My family's motel is now the headquarters for the national park and the house I grew up in is a ranger station, both in Ochopee.

Actually they can be stopped in small amounts, but you really have to know the law and you have to know some people I think. It sucks losing everything you worked for your whole life like my father and his father did.

When I was a kid I could step into the post office with my mother and get our mail, but today it's full of electronic machines, wall to wall. When you slid open the little peep-hole door to talk to the post master, there's there face. They can barely fit in there. It's kind of funny. size: 7' x 8'. It was supposed to be temporary in 1953 but it lasted until today. The book is long look and journey into the interesting past of a community rich with character.

Quote from the book where taken directly from newspapers, for example:

One of the attendees then said, “Why do the government officials listen to bird watchers before they listen to us?” Moore looked at him and said, “It’s unfortunate that one of those bird watchers has the weight of about one hundred of us.” He looked around the room. “Let’s see if we can’t get one hundred of us to every one of them!”

Someday I hope to have some satisfaction for the injustice I keep in my heart. I'm still healing from the trauma of my childhood experiences of losing my home. My family has never fully recovered. The book is just a way to show them, my aunts, uncles, and parents, that it wasn't for nothing.

ARGH. I had a comment on here and it was funny and it was about Florida and how I want to live there and how poodles would probably volunteer to be harassed by alligators to help me reach that dream, it all made sense in context, and then for some reason my internet went crazy and it ATE MY COMMENT and now I had to reload the page and I am NOT going to try to recapture the magic that went into that first comment.

Suffice to say, IT WAS MAGIC.

It's probably for the best, though, as now nothing will distract me from saying this book sounds really great and I am going to put it on my wishlist.

Sadly, the tale of communities being swallowed up by big business and sacrificed in the name of progress is a much too common one. Those rare occasions when locals win their cases against bogus eminent domain claims is cause for celebration.

Good luck with your book! I'll bet it felt really good to get your town's story out there.

It took me most of my life to finally finish a book about my lost community. I'm finding so many people who were also hurt by the experience as well. Many have passed away, the old-timers, and that is a big motivation for me. To tell the story before everyone is gone who remember what happened.

1976. America celebrated its bicentennial, an acknowledgement of two hundredyears since the signing of the Declaration of Independence and its support of individualfreedoms protected by the government, thought to be seldom found inother countries. Many Ochopee residents felt somewhat at odds with the concept,considering their situation.

Jeff, my human and I wish you all the very best with your book. The tale of a community lost and yet relived with the compelling words. Yes, that post office would be way too small to transfer the huge amount of post I get from my adoring fans :)

A story about old Florida. My folks live in Tampa and I've watched how built up that area has become over the years. My stepkids all either attended or do currently attend FSU. I've experienced my share of FL tourist attractions, but my favorites have always been the old FL ones like Cypress Gardens, Weeki Wachee and the FSU Circus. Love that old post office. Good luck with your book, Jeff!

Thanks Kim for your support. I really do need it. Starting from the ground up on this book. It's tough to know which way to go. I just know that this little story is important because it represents to me, Justice for small places so that they will never be forgotten.

Thank you Jeff! Your book is amazing and I'm so thrilled to be able to share What Happened to Ochopee? - your first book and your personal journey here on my blog. I wish you all the best with your debut launch and all your future writing goals! Please, visit again, soon!

The comments were amazing and heartfelt and I know very appreciated by Jeff - thank you, everyone!

Would love to hear from you, say hello and leave your blog address - I'll visit, but please take with you my undying gratitude that you stopped by for a read. Be well, be happy, and may your blog surfing bring you joy!